Complex Poet (Posts)

June 6, 2014

It’s summer, why am I thinking of the fall? Because things pass in such similarity…

You, My Architect, And I, Your Elizabeth

after, Reaching for the Moon

We first discover October; vines spreading over hard ground, vast greens stretching their arms, hands cupped and unfurling in dance, giving thanks to the sun before berries burst from delicate flowery fruit in the jungles of the cities, north and south. Such a short season a future grows together, two, in mornings romantic light. Every minute, of every day loneliness became bearable. Sweeter if sugar is added, before roasted in buttery words. Scornful heat tests the flesh, and still will yield a mouthful. But, at its best. Nourished by dryness, bem-vindo! One makes the most of its place. You, propped up leaf umbrellas so, I could waltz the rugged terrain, get just the right amount of daylight— an ever so thoughtful lover; brushing up against my skin, shadows are always the body, more awake in the moonlight. Improbable likenesses, surreal surroundings wrapped up, in condensed volume whispers. I, at your side, for always, your pumpkin. Fairy-tales do come true.

A draft, and not in the form I typed it here. No energy to piece it back together, so it lay here in the shade…